


Spotlight

by Angelwingsl3 (Marie_Fanwriter)



Series: Macen & Avitus [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Embedded Images, Fluff, Kidnapping, M/M, Pre-Andromeda, Second meeting, Spectre missions, chance encouters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter/pseuds/Angelwingsl3
Summary: Summary:The second time Macen met Avitus.Timeline:2176, just before the Skyllian Blitz and around the time the Andromeda Initiative began.





	Spotlight

**Author's Note:**

> These boys always deserve more love. Please enjoy the story of Macen and Avitus' second meeting, just in time for Pride month!
> 
> A big thanks to my beta, [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer), because this stuff seriously wouldn't be half as good without them.
> 
> Also, lots of love to [**Palavenmoons**](http://palavenmoons.tumblr.com) for the art!

 

\---

As he collided with the ground for the third time that day, Spectre Avitus Rix decided that perhaps being intentionally caught by batarian slavers was a… poor choice.

He feigned an injury, made easier by the fact the steel grating beneath him was digging into a fresh gash on his forearm from where his primary omnitool had been torn out. Avitus had backups, of course, three in fact, but the batarians didn’t know that. Honestly, he was starting to seriously doubt their intelligence as they slammed the cage door shut and left him without supervision.  _ Idiots. _

Sitting up, the Spectre took stock of his surroundings just as Saren taught him in training. The cell was barren, three solid walls and one with thick bars -too thick to break without leverage he noted with a huff of annoyance. He pushed himself up against the cold bulkhead, holding pressure against the torn hide on his arm to stem the bleeding and allow his augments to clot it faster. He could hear the hum of the ship’s drive core and voices beyond proper hearing range -he assumed from the bridge.

The ship wasn’t large, not even a corvette by turian standards. He sat in the cargo hold at the rear of the vessel and between him and his captors lay space for a galley and crew quarters. They had weapons, too. Old ones that were still able to tear through his shuttle’s hull as he predicted they would.

Avitus sighed and allowed his head to thunk back against the wall. Thus far, he’d seen no other prisoners which was a crying shame. It meant the ‘scared businessman’ act needed to continue a while longer, at least until they reached the slaver’s base. He could only hope they took him there. If they didn’t, he would need to enact his backup plan which he did, admittedly, prefer. Killing the slavers and sifting through their files would have been so much easier.

He removed his hand to check if the bleeding had stopped. It had. And he artfully smeared some of his blood at the corner of his mouth and beneath one eye. Effectively, it made him look more beat up even if it did make his nose itch as it dried.

Forcing himself to his feet, he paced the length of the cell. As one step rapidly multiplied to a hundred, Avitus had time to lament the lack of under armour beneath his suit. He suppressed a shiver, pushing the feeling down like he was silencing the ache of the bruised plating along his abdomen. His capture needed to feel real and solidify his persona, which meant letting them scuttle a perfectly good vessel and then take a beating. If the batarians did one thing right, it was making sure that he’d feel the bruises for a while to come.

The engines shifted in pitch.

Avitus placed a hand against the exterior wall and closed his eyes to focus on the ship’s vibrations as he waited for the tell-tale signs of atmospheric entry. A few minutes later, he could hear as well as feel the buffet as friction began to beat against the hull. The slaver’s ship was a hunk of junk, and it took time for the inertial dampeners to kick up to full strength.

Another half-hour passed before voices from the cockpit began to draw near his cell, and the engines powered up for approach and landing. Avitus sat down against the wall furthest from the door, huddling himself in the corner as he attempted to appear smaller than he was -not an easy task for any turian let alone one of his stature.

The door swung open, revealing two batarians and their rifles.

“Get up, turian!” the first demanded. Avitus decided to name him ‘Ugly.’

“He said  _ get up!” _ the second shouted a moment later in a voice pitched just slightly higher. A female, he realized after a moment. He never could tell with batarians. She stepped across the cell, grabbing him by the front of his suit and dragging him up. ‘Brute’ is what he decided to call her.

Avitus allowed himself to be tossed toward the door, now well within Ugly’s reach. “Don’t hurt me!” he whimpered, striving for the most pathetic whine he could muster. Saren might’ve been proud of his acting ability for once. It had come a long way since the first time he’d been made to act for a mission. “My- my company can pay you. Just don’t hurt me!”

Brute scoffed, shoving him out of the cell and into the hall where Ugly slapped his hands into omni-cuffs. “That’s the only reason you’re alive, Mr. Vrachos. Turians make for shit slaves.”

Keeping the disgusted look off his plates took more effort than it should have. Not only was he appalled by batarian’s blatant disregard for life, but for the part he played as he meekly warbled at her words. Avitus was damn glad Kryik wasn’t here to see this, the teasing would have been relentless.

The moment Avitus got free, he was going to make sure no one ever spoke of this again. By force, he expected.

Ugly lead him out of the ship and into the frigid nighttime air of some nameless backwater planet that reminded Avitus of his homeworld. It was dextro, barely enough to sustain life but more suited to quarians than turians because of its climate -not that the quarians would be given a planet anytime soon but all the same. Preliminary scans from his actual ship a few days ago spoke of ore deposits beneath the surface, and while they were in an open desert for the moment, there was a band of forest area near the equator that would be more conducive to settlement.

The backstory for this mission had been simple; Avitus posed as an affluent businessman from Palaven looking to expand his mining company. He made contact with the slavers, trying to buy them off-world. It wasn’t as if they had any real claim to the planet, but in the Terminus, there were no laws, it was simpler to buy people off rather than fight. Unfortunately, it leads to situations like this one being quite common. He’d been taken hostage the moment his shuttle jumped through the relay.

He stumbled forward as Brute shoved the rifle muzzle into his lower back. “Keep up.”

Avitus whimpered a little more for show and sped up his steps until he was nearly on Ugly’s heels. It seemed to appease her for the moment.

A little further down the dusty pathway and around a dune, the batarian’s facility came into view. It was a hovel of a prefab building with two-stories, unlikely to be a basement. Avitus estimated the size to be a few thousand square metres and winced. They could hold a few hundred prisoners in a facility this large. Avitus noted three guards -two at the door and one on the roof with a sniper rifle. Not exactly lax security, but not high either and the sniper looked half-asleep as he slumped against the side of his nest.

“You got him!” One of the door-guards whooped. “Knew I could count on you, B’evessa!”

She came up beside Avitus, sneering. “Fuck you, Gnog. I ‘ain’t sharing his ransom with you.” 

“Aww, come on B’evy-”

“No!” She shoved Avitus forward, between the guards and into the base. As they continued to walk away, Gnog groused about his poor fortune, and the other nameless guard laughed at him. Ugly just shook his head and continued to lead the way.

Inside was as expected, a warehouse, but mixed in with stacks of crates were livestock cages filled with people. Avitus couldn’t help his nose plates scrunching at the stench; blood, defecate, and ammonia. While the species ranged from a single bedraggled looking quarian to a handful of dead-eyed asari, he counted about fifty heads and not a single turian among them.

Internally, he swore.

He was supposed to be finding the Vice-Primarch’s daughter. Not that he was remiss to take out a slaver base or two in the process, but after this act, the other slavers might be wise to his tactic. There could be no enemy survivors when he finished here, not a single one to pass on the story of what happened and blow his cover. And then there was the matter of fifty or so slaves to handle. He’d at least need to call in an aid ship and most, shuttle them to the nearest station and hope they made our all right.

Sometimes he wished he had Saren’s stomach for leaving the civilians to their own devices. He sighed, letting the air fall out of his lungs and into the misery. He couldn’t leave them here to die, nor kill them to ensure their silence as Saren might’ve encouraged him to do. No one deserved what these batarians had done to them, and he refused to be complicit in their suffering.

Avitus glanced around expectantly as they passed the cages, waiting for Brute to shove him into one. But it didn’t happen. They continued through the warehouse to the back and into a hallway.  _ Curious. _

When they stopped at the very far end, passing three other doors along the way, Ugly tapped his gun against the grated window of a solid metal door. “Get back!” A distinctly turian sniffle preceded him keying the lock open with his omnitool. “Now, you get in there, too.”

Without argument, Avitus stepped inside. As the door slammed shut behind him, his mandibles flared into a grin.  _ Jackpot. _

He turned his head to check the hall through the small window and ensure the slavers weren’t waiting outside the door before he knelt in front of the young turian. She looked up at him with wide-eyes and her arms cradled across her middle. His voice pitched warmly into a comforting hum.

“Miss Llyana Igentis, I presume?” Avitus dipped his chin, fixing the girl with a knowing look. She nodded and unfurled a little. “Spectre Avitus Rix, at your service.”

“Spectre?” She blinked a few times, her head cocking to the side a little as she processed the word. Her file said she was nine years old, old enough in turian society to have been introduced in school to the concept of Spectres and likely a gun range or two.

Avitus nodded. “Your mother sent me to find you,” he told her as his mandibles slid into a relaxed smile. He reached into the pocket of his tunic, a task made difficult by the cuffs on his wrists, and pulled out a palm-sized pyjak plushie. “She said you’d be missing-”

“Koko!” Her eyes lit up, and she rushed forward to take the toy from him. Llyana hugged it to her chest before putting it into her tiny cowl to nuzzle. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Avitus said as he stood and shifted back to his Spectre persona for a few moments. He paced the cell as he’d done on the ship; this room was more secure but not any more comfortable. It was bare save a bucket for waste, a few empty water bottles, and ration bar wrappers. He counted three, enough to sustain an adult for the five days she’d been captive but not enough for her to have felt full. He stifled a growl; kidnapping was terrible enough without starving the poor kid.

Stepping up to the door, Avitus checked the integrity and the locking mechanism. The electronic lock gave off a faint buzzing noise, and as he pushed his face up against the window, he caught of enough of it to determine it was an outdated model, hacking their way out would prove to be no trouble when the time came.

A small hand tugged on the back of his tunic, and Avitus turned to see Llyana peering up at him with quivering mandibles. “Can I go home now?”

He felt his expression drop and knelt back down to address her. “Soon. Your mom and dad miss you very much.”

She wrung her hands at the edge of her dirty tunic. “What about Auntie Lara?”

Avitus ran his tongue along the back of his teeth to give himself a moment to decide if he should tell her about her aunt’s fate or not. Lara Sensat, the Vice-Primarch’s sister, had been taking Llyana to Illium to visit the rest of the family. They worked as armoursmiths, the best off Palaven. While her cousin and uncle escaped mostly unscathed, Lara did not.

Despite it being simpler to lie, Avitus couldn’t do it. Instead, his voice pitched low, and he hummed in apology as he said: “She died, Llyana. I’m sorry.”

Before he knew what was happening, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and started to keen. His cuffed hands got trapped between them, but she didn’t seem to care and took all of the comforts he could give in the sound of his voice and the gentle vibration in his chest. 

By the time she’d tuckered herself out, Avitus’ legs had long gone numb and stiff. Carefully, he moved them to the wall, furthest from the door. He sat down, and she curled up against his side for warmth and comfort. It did not take long for her to fall asleep, and as she did, her keens faded into the dull purrs of sleep. Avitus wished he could do more, but for now, they had to wait.

Tomorrow, they would make their escape.

\---

Avitus jolted out of his doze, unsure at first as to the cause until a hard tremor rocked the wall he was braced against and chunks of plaster crumbled from the ceiling. He twisted onto his knees, protecting Llyana from the falling fragments until the sound disappeared. Explosives. Frag mines, if he wasn’t mistaken. He was on his feet a moment later, putting himself between his charge and the potential danger.

“What was that?” the young turian warbled sleepily. Llyana rose behind Avitus, and he could hear her feet scrape along the floor as she began wandering toward the door. Avitus waved her back.

“Listen,” he ordered in a harsh whisper, sparing her a glance before turning his attention back to the cell door. He strained his hearing against the sound of gunfire to hear a fair number of screams -batarian voices- and shouts -turian ones.

His mandibles flared. What were other turians doing here?

A thousand possibilities flashed through his mind, but none of them mattered because the thunder was growing closer. His plans needed to move up. Avitus twisted his wrists in the cuffs, breaking the cheap locking mechanism made for species weaker than his own and then pulled up his secondary omnitool for the first time since his capture. He set up a quick scan before beginning to hack the lock.

“What’s going-”

“Hush,” he cut her off as gently as he could, soothing the harsh word with a warm thrum. “It’s time to go.”

Staying wasn’t an option; his priority was Llyana no matter what else was happening outside. To her credit, she kept silent as he worked and hugged her pyjak toy to her chest. A few seconds later, the electronic lock made a happy ping as it unlatched the door.

Avitus spun on Llyana, holding the door closed with one hand as he lowered himself to her eye level to keep her full attention. “You stay here until I say to come out, understood?”

He could see her nod in his peripheral vision. “Kay.”

Standing again, Avitus checked the hallway just in time to see the door at the end of the hall swung open. The sound of two sets of pounding feet cascaded down the corridor followed by batarian shouts and more gunfire.

“B’evessa, this is your fuckin’ fault!” 

“Shit, Frayn. Bitch me out later, let’s just get the girl and-” 

Brute didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as Avitus swung the heavy door open at just the right time for her to slam into it at a full clip. Before Ugly could react, he received a faceful of talons and a sucker punch to the gut. Brute slumped to the floor, and Ugly reeled in pain. And damn, if it didn’t feel good.

Three turian soldiers appeared, their black armour and sigils denoted them as Hierarchy Blackwatch.  _ Interesting, _ Avitus mused as he disarmed Ugly and shot him point-blank before turning the gun on Brute and kill-checking her too. The soldiers, helmeted as they were, looked between him and the pair of downed batarians without lowering their weapons.  _ Smart. _

One stepped out in front of the other two, the leader.

Avitus turned his newly procured rifle on the mystery-turian. From the look of it, it wouldn’t do much to the soldier considering the quality gear, but it was better than nothing. “Identify!” he shouted in standard turian format, hoping for a friendly reply. He wasn’t precisely Hierarchy anymore, but it didn’t change the coding ingrained in his psyche.

“H83 647 721.” Came the soldier’s service number in an automatic reply. It set Avitus’ nerves at ease at least a little that he didn’t shout back ‘classified.' If he had, Avitus might be dead before he could explain himself. The soldier lowered the rifle muzzle to the floor without clicking the safety on, still not trusting him completely. “Drop the weapon. Hands on the wall.”

With the distance between them, Avitus had no choice but to comply. With no armour and only a backup shield generator, it would only take a clip from the Blackwatch agent to down him. Not to mention, it was three on one. Even he wasn’t good enough to survive that. Maybe Saren could, but it still would have hurt. He’d also rather Llyana not see him shot dead in front of her. She’d gone through enough.

“Right, don’t shoot.” He lowered his rifle and kicked it away of his own accord. “Additional captive in the cell behind me.” He turned his head, seeing she’d crept into the doorway. “Llyana, stay there.” She nodded and stepped into the shadows.

“Wall,” the soldier reiterated with a gesture from his gun.

Avitus turned and placed both hands on the wall at shoulder level, watching the other turian approach with caution. The other two broke off, checking the other rooms along the hallway and shouting ‘clear’ as they finished with each one. A few stray shots finished off any slavers they found cowering in the back rooms.

The leader stowed his assault rifle and pulled a pistol instead. Outside it had grown quieter, the shouts and gunfire dwindled as the fighting came to an end. Avitus estimated there had been no more than thirty batarians considering the size of the base, and judging by how quickly the building went silent he figured himself correct. A Blackwatch unit generally deployed in groups of six to nine with squads of three within it. A slaver base only lasted a matter of minutes. Sometimes he missed those days. It was simpler then.

“This is gonna sound a little-” Avitus began to introduce himself, his voice falling into comfortable colonial drawl, only to be cut off by the soldier.

“Wait… Rix?” he asked as he stumbled to a stop two metres away.

Avitus’ head whipped up. His disguise was faint, merely white paint over his usual colony markings, but out of billions of turians and a few hundred thousand Blackwatch agents in the galaxy for someone to recognize him was a shock. “Uh, yeah. How did-”

“Hang on,” the soldier laughed as he stowed his pistol on his belt and reached up to remove his helmet.

The moment Avitus saw green paint, he realized he might’ve hit his head harder than previously thought. He dropped his arms and turned on the shorter turian. “Barro?”

“Fancy meeting you here,” Macen chuckled. His mandibles shifted into a grin as he took a long, shameless look from Avitus’ boots to his fringe. “And in a suit no less. Knew I was coming, did you?”

Avitus huffed, his mandibles tilting fondly as he shook his head. “Didn’t you see the welcome mat I laid out?” he gestured to the two dead batarians at their feet. “‘Fraid we’re all out of refreshments.”

“Damn, I was so looking forward to another terrible glass of  _ horosk.” _

Before Avitus could reply, the other two soldiers joined them in the hall. Macen gave them a hand signal for ‘friendly’ before putting his hand to his comm unit. “This is Barro, require the Captain at my location. Hostiles neutralized.”

Avitus stepped around Macen to fetch Llyana. He heard the faint reply in the otherwise quiet hallway.  _ “Understood, ETA two minutes.” _

“Come on out,” he encouraged with a gentle thrum, stepping across the corridor and poking his head around the doorframe. Llyana huddled in the corner, her arms around tight her middle again and eyes downcast. Avitus shifted his mandibles into a warm smile. “I want you to meet my friend, Macen. He came to help us.”

She nodded and grabbed his arm as she followed him out so that she could hide behind him. He let her without hesitation and kept up the warm vibration that he knew helped settle young turians. They passed the dead batarians to stand nearer to the exit. Her mother’s lifestyle as a Vice-Primarch in peacetime probably led to a lot more political meetings than battlefield stories, and with all she’d been through in the last few days, he couldn’t blame her for being afraid as they stepped over her dead captors.

“He’s here with a whole team,” Avitus continued. “They’re going to take you home.”

“What’s your name, little one?” Macen knelt down to her level.

Llyana looked up to Avitus and waited for him to nod before answering. Avitus caught the surprise on Macen’s plates when she said her clan name and a few more pieces quickly snapped into place. The Blackwatch mission was unrelated. At least that explained why Macen wasn’t expecting him, if not why he was here in the first place.

“And who’s this?” Macen pointed to the pyjak plushie in her cowl, taking a genuine interest and distracting her from the other two heavily armed and still helmeted soldiers. 

Movement caught Avitus’ eye at the far end of the hall. He tensed for a brief moment before more familiar black armour came into view: Macen’s Captain.

“Barro, report,” the Captain ordered, striding down the hall at a fast clip, her rifle held loose in her hands, but Avitus did not doubt that she’d have it ready in a moment’s notice. She halted two metres back, giving Macen room to stand but she kept her gaze on him and Llyana.

Avitus met her gaze through the darkened visor. He could have sworn he saw her head tilt just slightly to the side as she regarded him.

“Ma’am, I’d like to introduce Miss Llyana Igentis - Vice-Primarch Igentis’ missing daughter. And-”

“Spectre Avitus Rix,” the Captain finished for him, reaching up to remove her helmet and reveal a face that Avitus would know anywhere. “Damn if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.”

“Meri?” Avitus couldn’t help the dumbstruck nature of his question. Then Lieutenant Relgas Meri had been his company’s 2IC when he’d been in Blackwatch himself. He knew she received a promotion since he’d left for Spectre training five years ago but hadn’t seen her since.

He offered his arm, and she took it, clasping at his elbow with a firm grip. “Heck of a place to find you,” she chuckled as she took in his dishevelled appearance. “You making a habit of turning up in places like this?”

“Well,” he extended the word, flicking his mandible out in sarcasm. “I was about ta break out when you so helpfully showed up.”

Macen elbowed him as he straightened. “Sure, you were.”

Avitus shot him a look, barely able to keep the amusement from his subvocals while he briefly explained he was on a Council sanctioned mission to rescue the Primarch’s fledgling. He watched Meri’s expression shift as she listened and knew she was taking their presence under consideration within her tactics. She did not explain as to why they were here. Avitus didn’t honestly expect one. His priority was Llyana. Theirs didn’t matter as long as it didn’t conflict with keeping her safe.

“The facility is secure for the moment,” Meri explained once he finished. She pulled up her omnitool, displaying a map and two blinking dots representing ships. “Batarian reinforcements will be here before the salarian aid ship arrives in two hours. Until then, we will remain here to protect the captives.”

“Captain,” Macen caught their attention and Avitus watched his mandibles shift with nervous energy as he spoke. “We have time to get Miss Igentis and Spectre Rix to the ship.”

Meri nodded thoughtfully. “It would be preferable, yes. Take your squad for escort, leave Tallus when you return.”

Macen barely had time to nod and say half of a ma’am before Avitus interrupted, forgetting himself as he dropped further into his colonial drawl. In the presence of his old squad, it was surprisingly easy to forget all the grace and decorum Saren had spent so long beating into him. He and Tallus joined Blackwatch in the same intake. “Wait a dang minute. You’re not benching me, Meri.”

She scoffed, giving him a look again from boot to fringe before focusing in on his keel. “And those cracked plates, lack of armour or weapons will assist me how?”

Avitus wanted to snarl at her but managed to hold his tongue. “You know damn well  _ how,” _ he countered, looking pointedly at her right shoulder before refocusing on her face. There was a story there, a long one involving a varren and a night caught out in a Digerian hailstorm, but he didn’t need to get into it as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Point taken, Spectre,” she flicked her mandible, annoyed with him - and rightly so, he knew- before she turned away to head back into the base and rejoin the rest of the squad. “At least get some armour while you’re there,” she called back before donning her helmet.

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he smiled. Meri had always been soft on him. She liked the accent. It was too damn bad his preferences laid solely in male turians. A soft ‘ahem’ from beside him brought Avitus back to the present.  _ Speaking of male turians. _ “Mhm?”

“We should get moving,” Macen suggested with a jerk of his head toward the corridor and pulled the assault rifle from his back.

“Right.” Avitus turned to Llyana. She’d continued to cling to his arm throughout the brief. Carefully, he picked her up and allowed her to wrap herself around his cowl. At her age, turian children were more arms and legs than anything else, making her an easy burden to bear. “Let’s get you something to eat, eh?” She nodded, burying her face into his shoulder as they began walking.

It was a short hike to the Blackwatch troop transport. Their actual vessel-- a Corvette, he assumed--  awaited the return of her ground team in a steady orbit above them. The shuttle moored just beyond the slave ship Avitus rode in on. As they passed, he noted the engines had been destroyed with explosives, and more batarian bodies riddled the pathway. The carnage a single Blackwatch squad could inflict was almost as impressive as the average Spectre. Their kills were efficient, and they left no survivors, as was the turian way.

Halfway up the ramp, Avitus could already feel the ship’s warmth cutting through the chilly desert air. The familiar scent of gun oil and turian bodies filled his nose. It smelled like home, and after a shitty few days, he could feel the tension in his shoulders ease with the familiarity. On the transport, two additional turians waited for them.

“Barro,” the first greeted without looking at his superior. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on Avitus and Llyana. “Captain said you had two VIPs. I only see one.”

Avitus’ mandibles spread wide in a grin. Meri had gotten their old pilot too. “Sorrus?” he scoffed. “Thought they’ da kicked you clean out by now.”

He lowered the weapon and removed his helmet as he stepped forward to clasp Avitus’ free shoulder. “Naw, the second you were gone they gave me a promotion. Once I wasn’t hauling your ass-”

An explosion from the direction of the base stole the rest of his sentence. The batarians were early. Avitus quickly moved Llyana inside, shielding her from danger. She clung to his cowl, a distressed warble falling from her throat. He carried her to the crew seats along the right wall and out of sight of the door. As gently as he could, he pried her small talons from his suit as he sat her down.

“Llyana,” he soothed, taking her hand in his. “I have to go back. My friend Sorrus is going to stay with you, okay?”

She shook her head, her warble becoming a whine as she looked up at the large turian who’d approached from behind him. Avitus knew Sorrus was a might bit intimidating, standing just as tall as he did but weighing in a solid 40 kilos more. Although, he also knew that Sorrus had two fledglings of his own, maybe three by now.

“I know it’s scary right now, but I have to go help the others.” He squeezed her hands before letting go. 

This time she nodded, her mandibles quivering. “But you’ll come back?”

“I will.”

Before Llyana could think to argue further, Avitus rose and turned back for the door. He shared a brief look with Sorrus, and the older turian’s mandibles shifted into a knowing grin. “Go do what you do best, right?”

Avitus merely flicked his mandible.

At the doors, Macen waited with a bullet-proof vest and a backup shield generator. One of the other two turians, the female Avitus didn’t know, was on the com and Tallus held a new rifle. The Spectre geared in less than a minute and they were on their way out into the cold again, this time at a jog. Gunfire erupted louder from the facility and, as they grew closer, the smell of acrid smoke bit against the back of Avitus’ throat.

Two shuttlecraft, no better looking than the hunk of scrap Avitus rode in on had appeared from the south while Avitus and the others were away. The first lay a smoking ruin forty metres from the doors, taken out by some kind of heavy weapon by the look of the hole in the side of her bow, while the other landed safely and was being used as cover by a large group of batarians.

“Tess cover left,” Macen commanded in a harsh whisper. “Rix, flank right.”

Avitus couldn’t help snapping to attention at the authoritative tone of Barros’ voice. Without really thinking about it, he was already falling into line with the others. He watched for the Blackwatch agent’s hand signals as he moved across the battlefield. Routing around the enemy by using stealth kept Avitus out of the line of fire while giving him an opening to attack the batarians.

A fierce grin spread his mandibles. He tipped one in acknowledgement before disappearing off the right side as requested. While Macen stayed back with Tess, providing covering fire, Avitus slunk around the downed ship. Twelve batarians took turns firing toward the base entrance.

The first batarian never saw him coming.

\---

Keeping his mouth shut had never been Avitus’ strong suit, not when he had something to say at any rate. Saren taught him everything he knew about maintaining silence, not only for social occasions but in cases of pain as he was experiencing now. He caught his tongue between his fangs and pressed down until he could taste blood.

Instead of focusing on the ship’s medic, a Doctor Allie Melandra, as she reset two bones in his hand, he took deep breaths through his nose. Against the stench of batarians, even the unwelcomed smell of antiseptic that came with a medical bay was comforting. Before the doctor had seen him, the injury hadn’t seemed so bad. Now, he regretted punching the last of the slavers in the face. He  _ should  _ have made him remove his helmet first -  _ rookie move. _

Doctor Melandra made a disapproving noise as she pushed the second metatarsal into place, making Avitus twitch. “So…” she hummed as she let go to grab a bandage. “What did we learn?”

“Don’t know what yer talkin’ about, doc.” Avitus exhaled as he opened his eyes. “No lessons today.”

While her attention didn’t stray from his hand, he saw her green eyes twitch with just a touch of amusement. Her undertones became patronizing as she answered for him. “We learned not to punch armoured combatants.” She tightened the wrapping, making him tense all along his arm and into the shoulder. “Didn’t we?”

Avitus managed to hum in agreement as he forced a lazy smile onto his face. “Right.”

She let go and turned away to clean up. “Good.”

Behind him, Avitus heard someone snicker. He did not need to turn around to know who it was, but he did so all the same. Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest was Lieutenant Macen Barro, now dressed down and freshly showered by the pleasant smell that accompanied him.

“I see Doctor Mel has taken care of you,” Macen said as he flicked his eyes between Avitus and the doctor. He pushed off the frame and crossed the few metres between them to offer his hand. Avitus took it, standing with his assistance. “Come on. I’ll show you to your quarters. We should be at the Citadel in a few hours.”

He hummed in agreement, suppressing the groan of discomforting moving around caused. Earlier, he’d suspected bruising, but the doctor had found a cracked plate over his ribs instead, and while she’d repaired it, Avitus was sore.

“Get some rest, Rix,” Melandra offered absent-mindedly while continuing to tidy up.

“Wilco. Thanks again, doc.”

She waved without looking up from her work, and Avitus called that good enough. It wasn’t until he felt a small tug that he realized Macen was still holding his uninjured hand. He pulled it away as they began to walk and tried not to read into it.

As they exited the medical bay and made for guest quarters, located in a small private bunk nearby life-support, Avitus kept himself a half-pace behind Macen. He looked just as good dressed in black fatigues as he had in armour, only a touch behind how nice he looked in a suit the first time they’d met. Saren’s teachings kept his subvocals in check for the moment as he appreciated the view.

Macen stopped at the entrance, his hand going to the panel to unlock the door as he turned around. A professional smile graced his face, though Avitus could see something resting just beneath the surface. He just didn’t know what.

“Glad you’re all patched up, Spectre,” Macen offered as he tilted his head to the open doorway. “You’ll find a fresh set of fatigues waiting for you. The mess is closed for the night, but there are MRE’s in the cooling unit if you like.”

“Thanks,” Avitus said, giving him a nod of agreement but not moving past the younger turian just yet. He fought for something to say before using his charge as an excuse: “How did Llyana settle in?”

“Good,” Macen replied quickly before expanding. “Real good, actually. She took to Sorrus pretty well. He hummed her to sleep by the time they reached the bunks. She’s the same age as his eldest, I think.”

“Thought so.” Avitus’ hand rose to rub the back of his neck as he took a half-step toward the open doorway. As much as he enjoyed looking at the other turian, the bed was calling to him too, and with his line of work, it wasn’t smart to get involved.

“We’re nearing the end of our tour,” Macen mentioned as he slid his hands behind his back and swayed a little on his feet as though searching for something else to say. “Sorrus is probably itching to get back to the fledglings by now.”

He huffed a breath, almost like a laugh. “You should have seen him on the tour before the first was born. A total wreck. Could barely fly straight.”

Laughing, Macen bobbed his head at the mental picture Avi painted for him.. “Well, I should uh… let you get some rest then. Arrival on the Citadel is estimated 0900 tomorrow.”

Avitus stepped past him, humming in acknowledgement. A quick visual scan revealed the room looked more akin to a storage closet than VIP quarters without windows and just four solid metal walls. He stopped just inside as he heard Macen begin to walk away. He’d been cooped up in boxes alone for days. It couldn’t hurt to ask for some companionship.

He spun to stop the agent from leaving, raising one hand into the air between them. “Hey, Macen-”

And found Macen standing the same way. “Avitus-”

They both stopped. Macen chuckled, and Avitus allowed a grin to spread his mandibles as he gestured to the other turian in an offer to let him speak first. Macen took a few, swaggering steps back toward him and stopped in the doorway. His hands remained folded behind his back, almost sheepishly.

“While I cannot personally attest to the  _ horrosk _ in the bar,” he began, his subvocals pitching in jest. “I know they stock it.”

“I uh… could test it for you,” Avitus replied, his weight shifting from one foot to the other with a touch of nervousness. It had been a long damn time since he’d felt so out of his depth if he’d ever felt like this at all. “If you like.”

Macen’s eyes lit up at the agreement. “I’ll be back in a few then? Give you a chance to clean up.”

Before Avitus could reply, Macen was already halfway down the corridor, almost as if walking away could dissuade him from reneging on the acceptance of a drink. A fond expression formed over his face and he watched him go until he disappeared around the corner in the direction of the mess hall.

Avitus returned his attention to the guest suite to strip out of his ruined suit. It went down the recycling chute without preamble. The room was fairly standard: a single bunk, desk, chair, and sink. The only true privilege it offered was privacy, a rare commodity on a starship. One he was glad to enjoy but reluctant to trust. While he washed up, returning his markings to their normal black, Avitus set his omnitool to run a security sweep. It came back with a single bug that he deactivated and left on the desk for someone to retrieve later, he could have crushed it, but that seemed overkill. Blackwatch had a job to do as much as he did.

Thirteen minutes later, not that Avitus was counting down the seconds or anything like that, a ping came from the door. He pushed himself off the bed and went to answer it. “Right on time,” Avitus greeted.

“You do clean up nice,” Macen said as he gave him a brief up-down, admittedly focusing in on his waist for a moment before finding his way back to the Spectre’s face.

Avitus scoffed with a brow plate rising high on his face. “Riiiight.”

The Blackwatch agent’s head tilted briefly toward the starboard side of the ship as he began to lead the way. “I don’t lie, Spectre.”

While that statement in itself was extremely doubtful considering the other turian’s profession, Avitus kept his quips to himself for the moment. Instead, he focused on what was ahead of them. The doors at the end of the hall slid open to reveal a small canteen with a bar at one end and two sitting areas set up. The first centred in the room with a viewscreen, currently playing reruns of some claw-ball tournament from a few weeks ago, and the second was at the far end with a card table set up for six to play skyllian five. The room was vacant, and that surprised Avitus just a little.

“Not a usual sight for the canteen to be empty at this hour,” Avitus remarked as Macen led him to the bar. He leaned against the bar as Macen rounded to the back to pour drinks.

“Well…” Macen began as he knelt down to fetch ingredients from beneath the counter. Avitus could hear some knocking bottles before the other turian rose. “I would love to say you’re wrong. But- you’re not. I owe more than a few night’s watch for this.” He gestured out to the empty room with a bottle of  _ horrosk _ in one hand and a metal tumbler in the other.

Avitus caught the slightly blue blush at the edge of Macen’s collar. “You know,” he leaned forward gesturing for Macen to come closer as he did so. “I’ve got something that works just as well, maybe better.”

“Care to share?” Macen humoured him, placing the glass down as he put his elbows on the bar.

“Spectre authority.”

Macen flicked his mandible in mock-dismissal. Had he been human, Avitus was sure he would have rolled his eyes. “Sure, Rix. Whatever you say.”

Grinning, the Spectre stood up tall again, and he watched Macen pour him a drink before fiddling around with two other bottles to make himself something too. When Macen was ready, he took the container and thrummed his thanks as they took the first sip at the same time. He hummed in appreciation and gratitude. “Thanks.”

Macen waved him off, taking a second sip before he placed his tumbler down. “So… how  _ did  _ you get all caught up in that mess?”

A long sigh fell into the air between them; the emphasis on the word ‘did’ made him feel a little on the spot. Avitus weighed his options before deciding on the truth, however humiliating it was. “Well, Vice-Primarch Igentis requested the Council’s assistance in the search for her daughter. Considering the-”

Macen held up a single talon, stopping him. “Not the Council version, Avi. Come on.”

Avitus’ brow ridge rose at the shortened version of his name, but he found himself replying all the same. “Well. I dressed up as a businessman.” A small ‘mmhmm’ filled the space between them around the lip of Macen’s glass until Avitus sighed again and finished the explanation. “And let myself get caught.”

Slowly, the glass lowered back to the countertop. Macen blinked twice.

“What?” Avitus scoffed.

“I don’t see it.”

“See what?”

Macen’s mandible flicked out in a turian shrug. “How those idiots mistook you for a businessman.” He reached out, tapping the back of his talons against Avitus’ shoulder to point out his build. Between his height and stature, Avitus knew he didn’t make a very convincing approximation of a desk worker.

“I can be-” he paused and turned around to lean against the bar to buy himself a moment to think. “Persuasive.”

Macen’s vocals shifted into tones of interest. He rounded the bar, standing a little closer than strictly necessary as he leaned in. “Now  _ that  _ I’d like to see.”

“Believe me. You wouldn’t.” Avitus chuckled as he raised his drink to his mouth. He took a slow sip, appreciating the way the alcohol burned down his throat over the smokey taste from earlier. The ‘scared businessman’ was most definitely  _ not _ the persona he wanted to show anyone; let alone the attractive turian he was sharing a drink with.

“Why not?” Macen asked as he pulled back a little to a more personable distance, but he remained close enough for Avitus to smell his plate scrub. It was… distracting.

Avitus shook his head. “My turn for a question.”

Macen conceded with a nod. “Alright. Shoot.”

“You said before you were a colonization specialist,” he said around the mouth of his glass. “Care to explain your proficiency with an assault rifle?”

A long sigh fell into the air between them. “Caught me. First, the team clears out the hostile inhabitants, and then I get to do the real work: collecting samples, taking scans,” he tossed a mandible outward, indicating nonchalance. “My preference is the science portion, but I’ll take what I can get.” He stopped to sip his drink before placing it down on the bar beside Avitus, leaning in close again as he purred: “I’d prefer to show you my proficiency with  _ other _ things admittedly.”

Avitus laughed alongside Macen, but he felt the heat rise in his neck as if he were still a fledgling. “Some other time, sure,” he replied with a slight waver in his voice.

Macen took the hint to slow things down, and he simply reclaimed his beverage before gesturing to the couch. It wasn’t as if Avitus didn’t want to see what he had to offer, but he’d never been one to move fast - not even in basic while the rest of his platoon was busy discovering themselves and one another. It got no better when he started working with Saren. If anything the sense of paranoia that came with being a Spectre worsened his luck in the romance department.

The night drifted on. One drink turned into three, and the conversation never seemed to come to an end. While they started at either end of the couch - they did not remain so far apart. By the third drink, Macen’s leg was brushing against Avitus’ own. Hours later, he didn’t tire of the other turian’s voice.

Temptation rose inside Avitus in ways he couldn’t remember feeling before. The other turian’s warm tones and gentle humour captivated him. Despite not always being a talker, Macen managed to drag out a few stories in between sharing his own.

It felt good.

So good in fact, that when the call came over the comms to announce the ship was about to jump to Widow, Avitus hadn’t realized hours passed.

“Guess we should grab some kava,” Macen suggested as he rose, his eyes dropping to his omnitool as he checked the time. “Mess hall will be open, join me for breakfast?”

Avitus couldn’t think of a reason to decline.

\---

After eating, they parted ways to get a few short hours of rest before hitting the Citadel. Avitus was asleep before he settled into the Hierarchy-issued blankets. He didn’t even take the time to check his messages, which would undoubtedly be built up since his brief disappearance from Citadel space a week ago.

All too quickly, the dreamless sleep passed until the door chime woke him. 

Suppressing a groan, Avitus rose and shoved his feet into his boots on his way to the door. He was met with a waist-high hug as Llyana launched herself into him. The air flew out of his lungs in an ‘ooph’ as his injured waist complained about the treatment. 

“Avitus!” she chirped happily, oblivious to his aches.

A smile broke through his grimace as he looked down at her and patted her shoulder. “Llyana, good to see you. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm!” she agreed as she pulled back. The pyjak toy was firmly in her cowl as it had been since Avitus had given it back to her. “Koko did too!”

“Good,” he glanced up to see Macen’s smiling face just a few paces away. He looked no worse for wear than earlier, meaning he’d caught at least a little sleep while they’d been apart. Avitus tossed him a smile of his own. “Mornin’, Lieutenant.”

“Spectre,” Macen greeted as he tilted his head to the elevator. “We’re docked. While the rest of the crew needs to go through customs, I figure you can sneak out with that  _ Authority _ you mentioned last night.”

He chuckled knowingly, directing Llyana after Macen into the lift to the CIC. The small turian chatted for the entire ride up, the horrors of yesterday seemingly forgotten for now. Her excitement at seeing the Citadel for the first time dominated her attention. 

For now, Avitus was happy to let her fill the space between him and Macen. He didn’t quite know what to say to the charismatic agent just yet. When the doors slid apart, he knew he was out of time. 

He lifted Llyana onto his hip as he’d done the day before and hushed her. The command deck was no place for idle chatter, especially during docking procedures. She understood his request for quiet as any polite turian child would and spent the walk to the airlock looking around at all of the bright screens and busy turian officers.

Meri stood at her post and flicked her mandible in acknowledgement as Rix passed. He nodded to her, knowing there would be a message waiting for him when he did manage to check his inbox. They’d stayed in touch over the years, though less frequently since Avitus began running missions on his own.

Macen led the way across the CIC. Once they were alone in the airlock, the decontamination cycle began to run.

“Thanks for the assist,” Avitus offered into the empty space between them.

“Don’t mention it,” Macen hummed back with a note of dismissal in his tone that was difficult for the Spectre to parse. Looking over, Avitus watched him stare off into space, as if lost in his thoughts.

He cleared his throat as the exterior door cycled open, taking the dismissal in stride no matter how much it made his plates itch. Avitus dipped his crest as he stepped out into the docking bay. “Give my regards to the others.” He looked down to Llyana. “Say, thank you.”

“Thank you!” she chirped again, clutching Avitus’ cowl for reassurance.

Avitus smiled at the fledgling before turning to go. He only stopped when Macen’s voice caught him.

"You know,” he said as he took a single step out of the airlock and onto the gangplank. “We're due to regroup on Palaven for a little shore leave. If you're not doing anything sometime next week, maybe we could make this a thing?"

Avitus spun back around, his eyes narrowing just a little as he rebalanced Llyana on his hip. "Breaking me out of prison?" he suggested not knowing quite what the other turian was referring to. While he hoped it was their evening, that note of dismissal made him wary.

"Well, I meant meeting up,” Macen laughed as he closed the distance between them, heedless of anyone watching as he tapped their omnitools together. A ping let him know his contact information had transferred. “But I'm open-minded."

 

 

\---

\---

**Author's Note:**

> -VV
> 
> A few original character notes for you. The following turians also appear in my other stories, kudos if you caught one!  
> Relgas Meri, the Blackwatch Captain - Also appears in Macen/Avitus story the inquiry.  
> Allie Melandra, the ship’s doctor - She’s from Unbreakable Heart, Tiran’s oldest sister.  
> Lara Sensat, the Vice-Primarch’s sister - She is actually the sister-in-law of the Sensat we know from Garrus’ visor. Her family appears in Stand Alone, the armorsmiths on Illium!


End file.
